


Learning To Live

by FaygoMayhem



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Death of a Parent, Family Bonding, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-12-03 08:46:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11528727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaygoMayhem/pseuds/FaygoMayhem
Summary: Oliver Scientia has never been very good with good with children, or people in general, but he learns fast when his young nephew comes to stay with him after his mother dies. Not that young Ignis is by any means a normal child.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello once again all. I know I promised that I'd be getting back to work on Hidden Talents, but I wanted to save the few ideas I had for IgNoct week proper. I've had this idea running through my head for a while now, so I figured I'd give it a shot. Everyone, meet Oliver Scientia, the lone uncle Ignis mentions all of once in cannon. As with most of my stories, this one drifts into some not-so-happy territory, but shouldn't go too far into sensitive material, unless you count dealing with the loss of a parent/ close loved one. Well, without further rambling, please enjoy.

 

The sound of someone knocking on the door echoes through an otherwise silent apartment. Swallowing a lump in his throat, Oliver Scientia nervously rises from his spot on the couch where he had planted himself until his guests arrived. He quickly checks himself in the hall mirror and ends up brushing back a few strands of lite brown hair that stubbornly refused to be gelled down. He adjusts the pair of wire-rimmed glasses that suddenly seem way too large for his skinny face and obsessively smooths down the dark purple tie he’s wearing over a tucked in navy dress shirt. He scolds himself for his own nerves, feeling about fifteen-years old again as he opens the door to greet his brother-in-law and nephew.

It’s been roughly six years since Oliver had interacted much with either of them. The last time had been right after his nephew was born, when he had paid a visit to Tenebrae before starting classes at the University of Accordo in Altissia. That visit had ended in an ugly screaming match between him and his sister, Serena, when he’d tried to offer some money to help their new family since her husband was out of work at the time. She had taken offense to the idea of being looked after by her younger brother, and he’d countered that someone had to, since her inattentive, self-absorbed, husband was doing a pretty poor job of it.

Things had only escalated from there, and by the end of the fight the two were so angry with each other they ended up not speaking again until she called him from the hospital on her deathbed. She’d apologized for the fight, begging him to forgive her before she wouldn’t be able to hear it anymore. Oliver hadn’t even known she was sick, and immediately began making arrangements to go see her. His new job as an advisor of the Citadel counsel in Insomnia proved to be quite difficult to get away from, however, and by the time he’d jumped through all the bureaucratic hoops needed to get the time off he’d only been able to get down there as she slipped away. They never had the chance to really speak again.

While paying his last respects, he had told his brother-in-law that if there was ever anything he could do for him or his son, Ignis, he shouldn’t hesitate to call. A week later he’d received a call asking if he wouldn’t mind looking after the boy for about a week while they settled Serena’s final affairs, as all of his sister’s assets were based in Lucis. Oliver had absolutely no idea how to handle children, but he owed it to his sister to make sure her son was looked after the way she wasn’t.

Luckily, from everything he’d seen and heard of young Ignis he wasn’t very difficult to deal with at all. He was very bright, a trait inherited from both sides of his bloodline, and rigidly polite enough to be a bit unnerving. When Oliver had spoken briefly with him at the funeral the boy had been almost frighteningly stoic, face and mannerisms not at all representing how a six-year-old boy who had just lost his mother should be acting. Everyone in attendance had praised the child for how well he was handling the situation, but Oliver couldn’t help but feel that something about it was very wrong. At least he probably wouldn’t have to worry about the kid causing too much trouble, if nothing else.

-

 “Magnus, Ignis, it’s great to see you! How have you been” he says jovially, plastering a welcoming smile on his face that he hopes doesn’t look as fake as it feels.

Magnus Stupeo is a businessman by trade and always makes sure to look the part. His short dark blonde hair is gelled neatly back and his thin moustache and beard are neatly trimmed. He’s wearing what looks to be an expensive blue business suit and tapping intently on a new model mobile phone. His brother-in-law doesn’t even look up from it as he mumbles, “Yes, it’s good to see you too Oliver.”

The two men have never exactly been friends, but the younger man still finds the action incredibly rude and starts regretting his decision even more. He drops the smile when he glances down at Ignis. The boy is standing respectfully beside his father dressed smartly in a child size pair of grey trousers and crisp white dress shirt. There’s a barely noticeable slump to his shoulders and a look on his face like he’d rather be just about anywhere else.  He stays quiet, with his head bowed toward the ground until his father gives him an insistent nudge.

“O-oh, yes. Thank you, uncle, for letting me stay,” Ignis immediately corrects his posture and quickly bows, embarrassed that he’d been caught forgetting his manners. He smiles but the melancholy look never leaves his eyes; Oliver can’t really say he blames him.

“It’s no problem at all,” he assures the boy, still fighting to maintain a cheerful attitude. The last thing the poor kid needs is to feel unwelcome here after being pawned off by his father just a week after his mother passed. “You guys must be tired after such a long trip, come on in,” He steps away from the door and ushers them inside.

Magnus finally stows his phone inside his pocket and walks briskly inside the apartment while Ignis follows close behind, dragging a small suitcase of his belongings. Oliver shuts the door and turns around just in time to watch his brother-in-law drop off the duffel bag he’d been carrying on his shoulder in the middle of the floor and start walking around to examine the apartment.

“You’d think with how busy they keep you they’d be paying you more at that fancy Citadel job to be able to afford a bigger place than this, eh Olli?” Magnus joked while browsing his shelves of knick-knacks and assorted books. Oliver felt himself bristling at both the subtle insult and the use of his nickname. Only close friends and family were allowed to call to him that, and with his sister gone he wasn’t sure if Magnus even counted anymore. Ignis, meanwhile, stood awkwardly in the middle of room with his bags, looking around but being careful not to touch anything or even breathe too loud.

“It suits me just fine. I don’t need a flashy house to justify the work I do,” Oliver fired back while moving to collect the bags from the middle of the room. “I can take those bags to the spare room while you two make yourselves comfortable,” he said more to the boy than his father, who already had obviously no problems adjusting to the space. Ignis handed over the bag with a small ‘Thank you’ and politely took a seat in one of the chairs arranged next to the couch and small coffee table.

As he walks away, he hears Magnus start talking to his son in a low voice, as if scolding him. He can’t make out what’s being said but catches the demure, ‘yes, father,’ choked out as a response before re-entering the room. If the boy had looked uncomfortable before, now he was just downright miserable. His face was still cast downward and betraying no hint of emotion, but his brilliant green eyes were clearly heartbroken and Oliver found himself wanting to strike the man now leaning easily against his bookshelf- though he’d never thrown a punch in his life.

“As much as I’d like to stay and catch up Olli, I have to check into my hotel before meeting with those damn attorneys for dinner,” Magnus shrugged, feigning regret at having to leave though it was pretty clear was more than ready to go. He stood up and walked over to Ignis, placing a hand on his head and ruffling up his hair. “You be good now Ignis, don’t give your uncle any trouble. I’ll be back as soon as all this legal garbage is taken care of. Call me if you need anything, you still have that phone I gave you, right?”

Clearly uncomfortable, Ignis ducks away from his father’s hand and murmurs, “Yes, of course.”

“That’s a good boy,” he praised, as if his son were a well-trained puppy. He pulled the boy forward and placed a kiss to the crown of his head. “Love you, kid,” he then released the boy and walked over to Oliver to clap him on the shoulder and hand him a piece of paper. “All the information about where I’m staying and how to get ahold of me is written there, Ignis has it as well. I really appreciate you doing this Olli, the kid would be bored to tears if I had to drag him around to all these meetings. It’s much better for him to be in a more….stable place right now; let him screw his head back on. At least one of us deserves that luxury,” He dropped his hand and looked down sadly. Though he could barely stand the man, Oliver he did share his grief and even felt a little sorry for him.

“It’s no trouble at all. Ignis and I will be fine, won’t we?” he looked over the boy to try and coax a response out of him, but received nothing but a half-hearted nod in return. Magnus gave him a thankful half smile and reached up to squeeze him on the shoulder again. Afterward he crossed the room and went over to the door.

“Goodbye Ignis,” he called, stepping out into the hall. Oliver followed behind to see him out and shut the door behind him.

“Goodbye, father,” Ignis called back soft and sad, still rooted into the living room chair. The boy wouldn’t know it, but Magnus was already too far away to have heard.

-

 Oliver shut the door once Magnus had disappeared from view and rejoined Ignis in the sitting room. The boy had barely moved at all and was still sitting politely with his hands in his lap, eyes staring blankly forward and face expressionless. He barely knew the boy, but was flooded anyway with the desire to take away his pain and shield him from the world. He probably wouldn’t be able to do that, he reasoned with himself, but he could at least try to make him comfortable.

“Can I get you anything, Ignis? I’m not much of a cook so I was planning on ordering us a pizza for dinner. That ok with you?” Kids like pizza, right? Maybe that would cheer him up.

“I’m fine, thank you. Pizza sounds good,” Ignis says without looking at him. Oliver couldn’t understand how the kid managed to sound pleasant and completely empty all at once, but he had the disturbing theory that he’d had a lot of practice.

“Alright, I’ll put in the order then. What would you like on it?” Oliver asked, going over to the phone to dial the delivery service.

“Just cheese is ok,” the boy sighed, again refusing to look at him. He supposed he really shouldn’t have expected anything else. He called in the order while Ignis listened, though he suspected the boy could really care less about the conversation. After hanging up the phone he looked back toward him, wishing he could think of something fun for them to do.

“Do you want to see your room and get settled before dinner? Maybe change into something more comfortable?” He suggested, figuring it would at least be a start. Ignis didn’t say anything, but stood up and followed as he headed back toward the bedrooms. The apartment wasn’t very large. Down the small hallway there were two doors on either side and one at the end.

“That’s my room,” Oliver said, pointing to the door at the end. “You can come knock on the door if you ever need anything.” He paused at the door on the right side of the hallway, “This is where you’ll be sleeping and the door across from this one is the bathroom.” He opened the door to the spare bedroom and switched on the light. It wasn’t much to look at, just simple twin bed up against the wall and a small table beside it. There was a wooden dresser he’d picked up secondhand when he learned he’d be having a guest, he’d placed a step-stool beside the bed so the boy would have an easier time climbing in and out, and the bags were still on the floor where he’d left them earlier.

“Make yourself at home, Ignis. Everything in this room is yours for as long as you’re here so don’t be afraid to use it. We can go out shopping tomorrow for anything you need that your dad might have forgotten to pack,” He hovered nervously in the doorway as Ignis looked around the room, hoping that it was least acceptable by whatever standard the boy was used to.

“We don’t need to do that,” the boy finally answered after exploring the entirety of the room, “I’m sure I have everything, I checked the list three times before we left. Thank you for offering though.” If he wasn’t mistaken, Oliver thought Ignis seemed a little offended at the suggestion that he had come unprepared. He’d have laughed at how serious the boy was if he didn’t find it so depressing.

“Well, in that case I’ll just leave you to unpack then. You seem to have everything under control here,” He cheered internally a little when Ignis flushed briefly at the praise. “I’ll call you when the food gets here,” with that he left Ignis in the room and went to busy himself with setting the table for dinner and compiling a list in his head of everything he could think of that Ignis might like to do while staying there. Anything that might keep his mind off what he lost for a while, even if the distraction was only temporary.

The food came about twenty minutes later, and Oliver only had to call out for Ignis once before he joined him at the table. The boy seated himself and tucked a napkin inside his shirt as Oliver plated pizza and poured chilled water for them both. Ignis waited until his uncle had joined him in sitting at the table before picking up his first slice of pizza and starting to eat. They stayed in silence for a good while as Oliver desperately tried to think of something to engage the boy. Unable to stand the quiet any longer, he just asked the first thing that came to mind, “So Ignis, what do you do for fun?” 

“I read the newspaper,” Ignis said, still quietly munching on his food.

“That’s….nice,” Oliver blanched. Clearly the kid wasn’t exactly normal, even before the crushing loss. “Anything else?”

“I do the puzzles when I can. Sometimes when I’m finished I fold the paper into shapes. People, dogs, flowers; things like that,” Ignis said shyly, as if he shared the opinion his hobby was weird and was embarrassed have said anything.

“That’s really interesting Ignis, where did you learn origami from?” Oliver asked, giving Ignis his full attention.

“A nurse at the hospital taught me. I was there all the time and there wasn’t much to do,” Ignis said simply, taking a drink of his water. Oliver felt his heart sink in his chest. Clearly there was never going to be an easy time to have this conversation, but maybe it would be best if they just got it out of the way now.

“About your mom Ignis, she-“ the boy cuts him off before he can finish, pushing his empty plate away and bowing his head.

“Yeah, I know,” he says darkly. “She’s in a better place, she loved me a lot, and she’s not hurting anymore. Everyone keeps telling me over and over, like I don’t already understand. I miss her, but I….I’m glad she’s not in pain anymore. She was sick for a long time.”

Oliver reaches over and puts a sympathetic hand on the boy’s shoulder, he tensed under the grip but doesn’t shrug it off. “I’m sorry,” he offered to Ignis, knowing there wasn’t anything he could say that would make the situation any easier.

“Me too,” the boy replies sadly. “May I please be excused?”

“Of course,” Oliver said, retracting his hand. Ignis pulls the napkin from his shirt and sets it neatly on the table before standing up and pushing his chair in.

“Thank you for the food,” he says respectfully before retreating back into his room and shutting the door softly. Oliver pushes his own plate away and dejectedly rests his head down on the table. So much for making the kid comfortable, was he just destined to ruin every single relationship he had with his family? 

-

He doesn’t see the boy again that night. Later, as he passes down the hall to take himself to bed he hears feint noises coming from Ignis’ room. He pads over and presses his ear against the door to listen, just to be sure he isn’t imagining things. Those sounds could mean only one thing; Ignis was crying.

Concerned, Oliver knocks softly on the bedroom door, “Ignis? Are you ok?”

The noises stop and he can hear some frantic rustling, like the boy is trying to hide something. A few seconds later he calls back, “Yes, I’m fine.” His voice is broken and his tone is nervous, like he’s pleading for his uncle not to come in the room.

“Ok,” Oliver concedes, knowing that going in the room to try and comfort him will likely only make things worse.  “Remember I’m just down the hall if you need anything. Goodnight”

“Goodnight,” Ignis calls back, relieved.

Oliver stays by the door until there’s no more sounds coming from the room, hopefully signaling that Ignis had fallen asleep. Suddenly exhausted, he walks back into his room and collapses on the bed. It was going to be a long week.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Thanks go to all who showed up last time to read this strange little slice of life AU. In this episode Iggy and Oliver bond and we're introduced to Olli's entire circle of friends (all two of them).

 

Oliver woke the next morning around 8 a.m. to the sound of something crashing in the kitchen. He normally woke up much earlier but he’d had a difficult time falling asleep when he was so worried about the boy now entrusted to his care. He groaned and quickly rolled out of bed while shoving his glasses on his face and kicking himself for forgetting to set an alarm when there was a kid in the house.  He quickly rushed out of the room, dressed only in a pair of novelty Moogle-print boxers, to find Ignis hunched over on the kitchen floor attempting to clean up the shards of a shattered plate with his bare hands.

“Ignis stop that! You’ll hurt yourself,” he yelled out and Ignis froze. He padded his way into the kitchen, being exceedingly careful not to step on anything, and seized the boy around the waist to drag him away from the sharp ceramic shards. He set him back down in a clean area of the floor and knelt down beside him. “Oh man, please tell me you’re alright. You didn’t cut yourself did you?” he asked in a panic, frantically examining the child for injury.

“I’m fine,” Ignis whispered, keeping his head bowed low. “I’m sorry about the plate, I accidently knocked it off the counter when the toast popped out.” Oliver turned away from the boy to get a better look at the kitchen. The majority of the broken plate pieces were piled beneath the stove and to the side of the step stool Ignis had dragged out of his room. Two pieces of toast were poking out of the toaster and there was a pan of what he assumed were eggs on the stove, judging by the smell and shells still on the counter. Luckily the burner was off, or they’d have a fire to deal with along with the mess on the floor.

“You…made breakfast?” Oliver turned back just in time to catch the subtle strike of fear that widened Ignis’ brilliant green eyes and made his lower lip wobble almost unperceivably for a moment.

“I was trying to have it ready for when you woke up, but I messed it up. I’m really sorry, I promise I’ll clean it,” Ignis’ hands were shaking at his sides and his eyes brimmed with tears, though he put in a valiant effort to hold them back. Oliver didn’t even want to ask what the boy was so afraid of.

“Hey, Ignis, look at me,” he said softly, again kneeling down so he could lift the boy’s chin gently and look him in the eye. “It’s alright, it was an accident. I’m just glad you didn’t get hurt. Thanks for cooking breakfast, but next time at least wake me up so I can watch out for you,” he smiled down at Ignis, gently patting his head, and was relieved when he seemed to relax. “There’s a broom and dust pan in the cupboard beside the refrigerator, why don’t you go and get it and start sweeping the floor up while I go get dressed. Just be very careful and don’t use your hands to pick up the pieces.  When I get back I’ll heat up the food and we’ll eat. Sound good?” 

“Yes, uncle,” the boy nodded and gave a small smile before scurrying off to clean his mess. Oliver went back to his room and dressed as quickly as he was able in jeans and a plain green t-shirt. He went to the bathroom to relieve himself and run an unhelpful comb through his unruly reddish-brown hair before rejoining his nephew in the kitchen before there could be any more casualties. The boy had just finished dutifully emptying the dustpan into the wastebasket and was looking at him expectantly for confirmation that his job was done.

“Thanks for doing that Ignis. Now, let’s eat shall we? I’m pretty excited, the last person that cooked me anything was your grandmother,” He chuckled to himself as he plated the scrambled eggs on the stove and put them in the microwave to warm up. They were pretty impressive for being cooked by a kid- fluffy and cheesy with large flakes of black pepper mixed in. He wasn’t lying when he said he was looking forward to eating them.

“I think I have some orange juice laying around, would you like some?” Oliver asked as he set the plates down on the table. Ignis gave a small nod as he climbed into the chair and again tucked a napkin into his shirt. He went the refrigerator and smelled the carton of juice to make sure it was still good before pouring two small glasses and sitting down himself. He eagerly shoved a forkful of eggs into his mouth and was thoroughly impressed when they actually tasted better than they looked and smelled.

“Wow, these are really good. Where did you learn to cook so well,” he asked, forcing himself to slow down. Ignis gave him a confused look and his cheeks were briefly tinted pink.

“It’s just eggs,” he said softly between measured bites of his own. “Mom and Gram used to keep me in the kitchen as a helper, so I learned from them. I was going to make more but you didn’t have much else in the pantry,” Ignis sipped his juice and shot Oliver a judgmental look over the sorry state of his cupboards, and the older man felt his own cheeks flush a little under the six-year-olds calculated scrutiny.

“I didn’t have any idea what you liked to eat, so I held off on the shopping until we could go together. We can go later today, if you’d like,” Oliver looked over at Ignis hopefully and caught the surprise that briefly flashed on his face at the offer.

“I guess we don’t have much choice,” Ignis concluded after thinking a moment. “There isn’t much I can do with only ketchup, peanut butter and some old takeout.” Oliver laughed at that a little too loudly and Ignis shot him another quizzical look, unable to see the humor.

“Well, you’re right about that, I told you I wasn’t much of a cook. You might actually be able to teach me a thing or two,” he told the boy, gesturing with his fork. Ignis flushed again shyly and poked at his food.

“It’s not that hard. You just have to do it a lot until you get it right. Mom always used to tell me that anyone who’s ever been really good at anything got that way by failing at it over and over, just doing it better each time,” the boy said sagely as he resumed eating.

Oliver swallowed a sudden lump in his throat, remembering a time when he was younger when his sister had told him the same thing. Ignis was proving to be even more like her than he originally thought. “That’s some good advice. I take it you’ve been practicing a while then?”

“Father usually comes home late and leaves before I wake up, so I kind of have to. I don’t mind it though, it’s useful,” the boy said simply, as if being left regularly to care for himself was the most natural thing on the planet; for him it probably was.

“You don’t have anyone to look after you when your dad’s at work?” Oliver asked, surprised. He set his fork down and looked over as Ignis sensed the change in tone and began to fidget nervously.

“Gran used to come around but dad said taking care of me was getting too hard for her, so she stopped,” Ignis said remorsefully, as if it were somehow his fault. He had never met the woman Ignis was calling ‘gran,’ whom he could only assume was Magnus’ mother as his own parents had passed before Ignis was even born, but he did know that she was pretty elderly. Trusting a woman that old to take care of a child was almost just as dangerous as leaving him alone, and Oliver was appalled that Magnus would be so careless with his son’s safety. The two of them would certainly be having a talk later.

“I guess it’s a good thing you’re smart enough to care for yourself then,” Oliver forced out as encouraging as possible, not wanting to upset the boy again. He stood and collected the now empty plates and walked them over to the sink. “We can leave after I clean these up, why don’t you get yourself ready.”

“Ok,” Ignis said meekly, getting up from the table and walking softly back to his room to change.

-

About an hour later the pair pulls up to the supermarket in Oliver’s barely functioning clunker of a car. He’s a little embarrassed when he has to clean out all the old paperwork and junk food wrappers from the backseat before Ignis can even get in, but the boy has the good grace to stay silent-though he does wrinkle his nose a little at the musty smell caused by the small leak in the back windshield. He makes a mental note to himself that he should consider actually buying a better vehicle now that he has the money for it, and that he should stop putting it off just because he usually prefers to walk everywhere. 

He grabbed the boy’s hand in preparation to cross through the parking lot and was met with a look like he’d just dropped to his knees and started howling like a behemoth. The pair stood there dumbly for a few moments with Oliver extending the boy’s arm forward while the rest of him remained rooted firmly in place.

“I can walk by myself,” Ignis insisted, tugging his hand back out of Oliver’s grip. People were starting to stare, and the last thing the older man needed was to become a source of neighborhood gossip _again,_ so he didn’t press the issue.

“Yeah, ‘course you can. I don’t know what I was thinking, sorry. Just….stay close and don’t go near the moving the cars ok?” Oliver shoved his hands dejectedly in the pockets of his jeans as Ignis raised his eyebrows and gave him a look communicating that everything he said was not only blatantly obvious, but also that he’d just lost horribly to a child in a short battle of authority. Ignis tugs on his shirtsleeve to fix the wrinkles caused by his uncle grabbing him and walks smoothly past Oliver, who follows just a step behind.

Ignis navigates the parking lot with confidence, as if he’s trying to prove himself with every step. He even stops at the crosswalk and waits for Oliver to catch up before continuing, displaying that he knows _exactly_ what he’s doing, and has no intention of wondering off. He makes another mental note about how much the child clearly values his independence, and reminds himself that he needs to learn to start respecting it a little more if they’re ever going to get along.

 When they get inside the store Ignis stops at the row of carts and crosses his arms, waiting for Oliver to grab one since he was still too short to do it on his own. He shoots off another calculating look as the cart is grabbed, as if daring the man to insist that he sit inside, but his uncle only gestures his head forward as signal for him to follow. Ignis happily falls into step beside the cart as Oliver pushes it off in a random direction, completely unsure of where to start.

“I guess we’ll just walk around, and you can pick whatever you want from the shelves,” Oliver tells Ignis as they head for the fresh fruits and vegetables at the front of the store. He figures he really shouldn’t be that surprised when the boy automatically leaves his side to start inspecting the fruit, carefully selecting a few apples and bananas from the baskets in front of them along with a package of strawberries. He wordlessly hands everything over to Oliver for him to put in the cart and darts off for the vegetables, where he pauses in front of a display of tomatoes and begins gently squeezing them to test for freshness. A sad smile flashes on the older man’s face as he watches the boy work while picturing him following the same routines with his mother by his side showing him how to best pick everything out.

Ignis returns with a head of lettuce, a bag of carrots, and his selection of tomatoes before directing them over to the potatoes where he has Oliver pick out a bag under his instruction. His mood has changed drastically, and he seems almost happy as he leads his uncle through the store explaining what each thing will be used for and his method of selection. Oliver listens to him attentively, commenting when appropriate. He’s impressed with the boy’s enthusiasm to show off everything he’s learned and is just so happy to finally have him _talking_ that he can’t bring himself to interrupt or try to speed things along.

As they make their way through the aisle containing various types of rice and dried noodles, Ignis launches into an explanation about his mother’s favorite way to make ramen. He becomes so distracted that he doesn’t notice when he hands his uncle a miss-shelved package of udon noodles instead of the ramen he had meant to grab. Chuckling to himself, he taps the boy on the shoulder and hands the package back.

“Careful Ignis, I think we might have an impasta on our hands,” Oliver tells him before bursting into a fit of giggles at his own lame joke. Ignis gives him another strange look and stares at the package, puzzled, until he finally connects the dots and makes sense of what his uncle had said.  Oliver finds himself floored when the boy not only cracks a smile, but actually starts to _laugh_. It’s a magical, childish, sound that only makes Oliver giggle harder with glee, which encourages Ignis’ laughter as well.  The two stand in the aisle laughing like crazy over a package of noodles until an elderly woman walks past and gives them a disapproving look. They stop laughing until she passes only to start again after exchanging the same guilty look. Ignis is the first to compose himself, exchanging the noodles for the correct kind with the amused declaration of ‘You can’t fool us!’

“I’m glad someone can appreciate a good joke,” Oliver says breathlessly as he tosses the noodles in the cart and continues down the aisle. Ignis beams up at him and he feels his heart melt a little inside his chest.

“Tell another one?” the boy asks, handing him a bag of uncooked white rice.

“How do you tell if ants are a boy or a girl?” He responds as they move down to a cooler to pick up more juice and a small carton of milk. Ignis thinks for a moment before shrugging his shoulders. “They’re all girls, otherwise they’d be uncles!”

The pair dissolves into another fit of giggles and Oliver can’t remember the last time he’s felt this proud of himself. They continue moving through the store exchanging jokes and food stories until they pass through the entire market. “Man, would you look at the thyme? We’ve been here for hours,” Oliver says as they finally make their way to the check out to stand in line.

“Good thing we didn’t have anything else plant,” Ignis sniggers at his side. The two howl with laughter again and attract some strange looks from the other store patrons that go unnoticed.

“Hey, do me a favor and grab a few cans of Ebony coffee out of that cooler for me, would you?” Oliver asks as they inch closer to the register.

“Father says this stuff is a heart-attack waiting to happen in a can,” Ignis muses, handing the cans over for Oliver to place on the belt.

“Yeah, well, it’s worth the risk when it’s the only thing keeping you going during a twelve hour meeting on unusual regional Anak behavior,” he muttered, shuddering to himself at the memory. Ignis shrugs at him and diverts his attention to the rack of newspapers and magazines, which doesn’t escape Oliver’s attention. “Go ahead and grab one, if you want,” he tells the boy.

Ignis gives him a look as if he’s trying to decide if the statement is another joke before turning back to the display. “There’s so many, I don’t know which one to pick,” he concludes after a few moments.

“Then grab the most interesting ones,” Oliver says, beginning to place the rest of their load on the counter. Ignis’ eyes widen and he spends a few more minutes on his selection before returning with copies of _Insomnia Daily, Eos Geographic,_ and _Lucian Enquirer._ Oliver raises a curious eyebrow and holds up the copy of the _Enquirer_ whose headline boldly accused an up and coming pop-singer of actually being King Regis in disguise. “You do know this stuff is all fake, right?”

“Obviously,” Ignis says while rolling his eyes, “but it’s still interesting. “Oliver shrugs and sets the paper down so the cashier can ring it up and the two leave the store a few minutes later.

-

 

They’re stopped while loading the bags out of the car by another one of the residents of Oliver’s apartment building yelling from the bottom of the stairwell. The voice belongs to his neighbor, Elle Ferris, who is currently leaning in the entryway to block their path.

“Oliver Scientia! Just where have you been? Too busy being a big-shot over at the Citadel for a few rounds of _Wizards and Wyverns_ anymore?” the young woman calls. She pushes a stray lock of curly black hair away from her face and crosses her arms over her chest in an intimidating way that never fails to work in spite of their considerable height difference. Oliver shoots Ignis an apologetic look for the interruption and nervously walks over to her.

“Sorry about that Elle, they’ve really been running me ragged. I’ll try and stop by sometime next week to catch up,” he mutters, stepping protectively in front of Ignis to try and shield him from view. She narrows her dark brown eyes at him and stands up on the tips of her toes to glance down at the boy shifting around awkwardly behind him.

“Olli! Just what exactly are you trying to hide?” she shoves Oliver aside and bends down to Ignis’ level. “What’s your name cutie? Olli never mentioned there was a kid in the picture,” she says sweetly to Ignis while simultaneously glaring up at Oliver.

“He’s my uncle,” the boy supplied helpfully. “My name’s Ignis,” he gives a short, polite, bow to Elle made even more stiff by the paper bag still clutched in his small arms.

“Well, aren’t you just the sweetest little thing?” she coos, reaching over to ruffle his hair. Ignis looks extremely annoyed, but she doesn’t notice as she stands back up and turns her attention back to his uncle.

“I’m watching over him for the week while his father’s out on business,” Oliver explains to her while wincing at Ignis’ look of agitation.

“Well I’ve gotta get to work now Olli, but you better bring that boy by my place before he leaves so I can spoil him rotten, deal?” She pokes him in the chest and gives him a look informing that ‘no’ is not an acceptable answer.

“Whatever you say, Elle,” Oliver says with a heavy sigh and he’s rewarded with a bright, toothy smile.

“Great, I’ll make my mama’s specialty cake! Catch ya later Olli, Ignis!” Elle slaps Oliver playfully on the shoulder, causing him to lose his balance and almost drop one of the grocery bags, and bounces her way over to the parking lot.

“Why do adults do that?” Ignis asks when she’s no longer in earshot. He sets his bag down and begins to fix his hair, “don’t they know it’s rude to just start touching people they don’t know?”

“Sorry about that Ignis,” Oliver sighs again, readjusting himself. “She’s a bit forceful but generally harmless. I’ll let her know not to get too close next time.” Ignis shrugs and picks his bag back up to start following Oliver up the stairs.

“Was that your girlfriend?” Ignis asks curiously.

Oliver feels himself flush red again as he answers, “N-no, that was my neighbor. We meet sometimes for coffee and board games.”

“Oh,” Ignis says simply. He pauses for a moment before asking, “Do we really have to go see her again?”

“In my experience it’s either eat her cake with dignity, or suffer as she shoves it down your throat. I promise it’s worth it though, her and her mother own the best bakery in Insomnia,” he stops in front of his door and fishes his keys out of his pocket so he can let them both in. Ignis considers the proposition as he sets his bag down on the kitchen floor.

“I guess it’s ok,” he says finally, “As long as she doesn’t touch me again.”

“Noted,” Oliver says with a smile as the two begin unpacking the groceries.

-

They get everything put away without much hassle. Oliver makes sure to keep most things Ignis will be using within easy reach so he doesn’t have to use the stool to get at it. They leave out the required items for Ignis to cook up some grilled cheese sandwiches with tomato soup. Oliver hovers behind the boy to ‘supervise’, though he ends up just getting in the way and Ignis shoos him back over toward the table. He chuckles at the reprimand, thinking that Ignis was probably doing a better job so far taking care of him than he was trying to care for the boy.

He watches Ignis work, fascinated by how easily the boy took to his task until he hears his phone ringing and walks to the living room to retrieve it.

“Scientia speaking,” he says as he answers the phone, not bothering to even check who was calling.

“ _Olli, you have a lot of nerve taking off for a week and leaving me to suffer these council vultures on my own_ ,” came the gruff voice of Cor Leonis on the other end of the line.

“That’s what you get for moving up in the world, _Marshal,”_ Oliver teased.

“ _I oughta have Regis’ head for tricking me into politics with this damn promotion. I march where he says to march and fight what he says to fight, I can’t really say that I care why_ ,” Cor grouched at him. They’d had this conversation almost every week since Cor had been promoted to head of the Crownsguard and was forced to actually sit in on the military debriefings instead of being almost permanently deployed, as he was used to.

“Of all the things that could bring the infamous Immortal to his knees, whoever thought it would be a bunch of stuffy old nobles arguing in circles about military nuance,” Oliver started sniggering as Cor cursed at him.

“ _Quiet, kiss ass. You don’t get to talk when you’re off taking a vacation while the rest of the men do your job for you_ ,” Oliver flinched at the insult and plopped himself down at the end of the sofa.

“Oh, you’re just mad that you had to deliver the activity reports yourself this time instead of relying on me, as usual,” he had asked Cor to be in charge of submitting the daily reports regarding the monster and daemon activity from key areas outside the city where the Crownsguard held positions. It was always important for their soldiers to know what they were contending with in addition to the Empire’s forces and Oliver was the best analyst they had. Cor was the only one he trusted to deliver the reports accurately.

“ _Damn right I am. Now, the least you can do is meet me down at the Hole and buy me a beer_.” The Hole In the Wall bar was one of the only establishments in all of northern Insomnia that was still willing to serve large groups of Crownsguard and Kingsglave soldiers due to how violent they tended to get with a few drinks in them. Oliver and Cor went frequently to unwind and make fun of their inebriated colleagues.

“I told you before Cor, I’m not taking this time for me. I’m watching my nephew while his father’s away on business,” he got up and glanced over in the kitchen to check on Ignis. The boy was still consumed with his sandwich making and didn’t seem to paying him any mind.

“ _So bring him with you, show him a good time_ ,” Oliver cringed at the thought of bringing the serious child down to a pit of rugged military types, they’d eat him alive. He retreated back into the living room and began to pace back and forth down the hallway.

“Cor, I’m not dragging a kid down to the Hole. He barely talks as it is, subjecting him to a session of drunken Glaive karaoke would probably mute him for the rest of his life.”

“ _Kid sounds more boring than you._ ”

“Shut up, he’s not that bad. A little…different, but he’s sharp as a whip and has a passable sense of humor,”

“ _Alright Olli, have fun with your new prodigy while your country falls to ruins at your feet_ ,”

“Cor, don’t be like that. He’ll be gone in a week, and then I promise I’ll make it up to you. I’ll buy you a beer-more than one even- just please don’t tank my career while I’m away.”

“ _I make no promises. Talk to you later.”_

“Later,” Oliver hung up the phone with a heavy sigh.

If there was one aspect of his life he would never understand it was his friendship with Cor ‘the Immortal’ Leonis. The two had been working together for some years while Oliver was still out in the field educating soldiers about the environment, wildlife, and daemons they were likely to encounter while out on mission. Cor’s fighting experience and general knowledge had been invaluable in his research on the best ways to defeat them in a battle, or avoid them if that wasn’t an option. In return Oliver shared with him all his findings so Cor was better able to keep his men trained and prepared for missions. It had been Cor who recommended him for the positon as a military analyst, and the two had built up a steady comradery over the years. Oliver was pretty sure he only stayed around because he liked having someone in his life with worse luck than him. He shook his head and went to put his phone in his room to charge.

Ignis, meanwhile, had heard the entire one sided conversation. He stirs his soup sadly, unable to figure out why everyone in his life seems so eager to be rid of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope I wrote Cor correctly.......if not feel free to yell at me, I appreciate any feedback I can get with this experimental story. 
> 
> As always, you can come talk to me on Tumblr at https://faygosmayhem.tumblr.com. 
> 
> I post status updates there, as well as some impending rants about things I've noticed while doing research for the story. Thanks again for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> I promise it gets happier as Iggy starts to warm up. If you have any questions you can come talk to me here:  
> https://faygosmayhem.tumblr.com/
> 
> about anything FF related....or just anything at all. I don't bite..hard. Thanks for reading.


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